


Life is Only a Barrowing of Bones

by servilesammy



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Blow Jobs, Blow Jobs in a Car, Dominant Dean Winchester, Established Relationship, Hair-pulling, Light Dom/sub, M/M, POV Sam Winchester, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Possessive Dean Winchester, Road Head, Submissive Sam Winchester
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-07-16
Updated: 2018-07-16
Packaged: 2019-06-11 05:54:45
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 793
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15308895
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/servilesammy/pseuds/servilesammy
Summary: Sam wakes sometime later to Dean tugging insistently on his hair, pulling Sam's head closer to him. He glances up at Dean, whose eyes don't leave the road, but Sam easily recognizes the slightly parted lips, the barely discernible panting and vague blush that makes the older Winchester's freckles look like a reflection of the star-filled night outside; he recognizes the want, the lust. He takes it all in for a moment, Dean and the sky and the well known touch of worn leather on his bare waist where his shirt rode up. He allows his brother's ministrations to approach just the edge of painful before edging closer to the inseam of Dean's pants.





	Life is Only a Barrowing of Bones

**Author's Note:**

> "In the end, everyone is aware of this: nobody keeps any of what he has, and life is only a borrowing of bones." -Pablo Neruda
> 
> Find me on tumblr @ servilesammy

Sam's head rests on his brother's thigh, Dean's thick fingers carding unhurriedly through his shaggy brown hair. He stares contentedly up at the Impala's upholstery, his eyes growing heavy and Dean humming absently above him. Dean's been driving for hours now, some highway in New Mexico that Sam swears hasn't curved once. His legs are a little cramped now, folded and propped up, but he wouldn't dare shift and risk losing his brother's hand on him. He dozes off a few moments after with the sunset's light blossoming over his eyelids.

\---

He wakes sometime later to Dean tugging insistently on his hair, pulling Sam's head closer to him. Sam sucks in a breath, relishing the gentle stinging for an instant while regarding the dark sky just beyond the passenger window. He glances up at Dean, whose eyes don't leave the road, but Sam easily recognizes the slightly parted lips, the barely discernible panting and vague blush that makes the older Winchester's freckles look like a reflection of the star-filled night outside; he recognizes the want, the lust, written in a language that to any other would be misconstrued, but to Sam it is as familiar as his own skin. He takes it all in for a moment, Dean and the sky and the well known touch of worn leather on his bare waist where his shirt rode up. He allows his brother's ministrations to approach just the edge of painful before rolling onto his front side and shifting onto his elbows, edging closer to the inseam of Dean's pants.

Dean's hand settles warm and solid where Sam's neck meets the back of his head, encouraging him yet further forward. Sam leans in, nudging his lips against and breathing warmly on the hard line between Dean's legs, coaxing out discrete groans. Satisfied with his work and the soft staining of saliva and precum, the younger brother reaches out with practiced fingers to pop the button of the older brother's jeans, bowing his head and using his teeth then to undo the zipper agonizingly slowly. He's about to repeat the same treatment again but over Dean's boxers when he feels an impatient tug the hair just above his neck. With a teasingly-annoyed sigh, Sam reaches into his brother's boxers and pulls his dick free, running a hand up it's length and swiping the pad of his thumb over the wet slit.

Sam jerks him once, twice, saliva rising in his mouth when he eyes the beads of precum budding and dripping in rivulets down Dean's shaft before they meet his hand. He leans in again, ducking under the steering wheel, and spits on the head, taking a second to appreciate the chocked-off moan it earns him. Sam drops down, licking a long stripe up the prominent vein on the underside and a quick swirl of his tongue around the head and over the slit that's steadily dribbling precum. Sam seals his lips over the tip, sucking while his tongue never ceases roaming, dropping down until he's taking the whole length into his throat in one fluid movement. He hears Dean gasp above him, uttering a pleased "Fuck, Sammy," and Sam quirks his lips in a smile around Dean's dick. He bobs up and down, sucking harder each time he reaches the tip and humming when it hits his throat.

One of Dean's hands is strangling the wheel, the other tangled and pulling harshly on the other man's hair. Sam loves it, lives for it; lives for hearing the gasped swears and his own groaned name fall from his brother's bitten-red lips. He's sucking harder know, savoring the taste and making a home in the back of his throat for Dean, only for Dean. He notices Dean's grip tighten, hears him gasp and whimper "Sammy," feels him lift his lips and bury himself in the heat of Sam's mouth as come spurts across his tongue. Sam waits to stop sucking until Dean stops twitching and he hears his exhale before draws back and kitten-licks up and down Dean's length, cleaning him off. He doesn't cease until Dean is oversensitive and his hips draw back, fingers loosening from his scalp and devoting themselves instead to rubbing up and down his little brother's back.

Sam looks up at Dean, catching his gaze and returning his satisfied smirk before Dean looks back up at the road. He rolls onto his back, closing his eyes and propping his head on Dean's thigh and smiling at the car's ceiling when Dean's hand reaches around him and spreads possessively across Sam's chest, thumb rubbing lovingly across his collarbone. They've got God knows how many hours left on this Earth, and Sam'll be damned if he doesn't enjoy every last one of them.


End file.
